“If they don’t, and that second day rolls around, I’m going to have to go looking for help. The next house is about a quarter mile down the road. The storm can’t last two days solid. I’ll wait for a clear spot and then break a trail myself if I have to,” he promised quietly.
She looked up at him. “And if the storm doesn’t stop?”
He didn’t have an answer for that, and they finished their cocoa in silence.
Chapter 5: Bleak Christmas
Anna lay in the darkness of the kitchen, listening to the wind snow spatter against the windowpanes. The single burner had been turned low to conserve fuel and air, and the faint blue glow showed her almost nothing of the room. The air was cool on her cheeks and toasty under the down comforters. Despite that comforting warmth and the soft breathing beside her, she couldn’t sleep a wink.
It wasn’t fear. The fear she was dealing with. It wasn’t the anger at this avoidable situation, and it wasn’t the cold. It was lying there, down to her slip, nestled in better quality bedding than she had slept on in her life, Henry inches away from her, and still being unable to touch him.
She wanted so much to reach out that her fingers and toes curled. Couldn’t she just move a little closer? Would he notice if she lay her head on his chest while he was sleeping? Would he feel her hand if she stroked his hair? Would he know, in spite of her doing everything she could to hide it for months, that she loved him more than she could stand and couldn’t stop herself from touching him now that he was so near?
She watched the dark fluff of his hair silhouetted against the slightly paler wall and tears stung her eyes. So close and yet so far.
Eventually exhaustion claimed her, though she had no idea how many hours she lay there gazing at him before it did. As she finally closed her eyes and drifted, she thought she heard him sigh, and felt him roll over, as if finally settling in to sleep himself.
The blizzard was still going strong when they woke, sliding awkwardly from beneath the comforters and standing beside each other as they blinked blearily at the whited-out windows. Somehow it was even worse than before. Anna carried a small, cold stone of fear in her stomach as she puttered around making coffee, while he scrambled some eggs and browned toast one side at a time in a skillet.
“You know,” he said, after his second cup of coffee had taken the glaze from his eyes, “I don’t actually know that much about you and I’d like to fix that. So tell me--how is it that you don’t have anyone to celebrate Christmas with?”
“I’m just...shy,” she said inadequately. “I never know how in the heck to start conversations, especially with men. I don’t know how to flirt either. Around here, people are pretty direct and they expect you to be direct, and I...I’m just the quiet type. I don’t know how to be in people’s faces. And making friends here...I was shy in Delaware. Here I feel like a social cripple, especially in the big city.”
“You do all right. Most people who meet you seem to like you. I certainly do.”
She looked up at him, and her smile was very tentative. “How...come you asked me if James and I had something going?”
He coughed awkwardly and poked at his eggs. “Well, he hits on you all the time, and it makes you smile.”
She swallowed more coffee and then said sadly, “Of course it does. I don’t exactly get much attention from men, and even if he doesn’t mean it--”
“He means it.” And there was such a tone of resentment and jealousy in Henry’s voice that she looked at him in shock.
He busied himself with his breakfast. “Well...that explains why you don’t date. You’re too shy to show interest, and when someone else does you figure they can’t be serious.”
She reddened and said defensively, “Oh well, then, why don’t you date?”
He blinked at her around a mouthful of eggs, chewed and swallowed. “Bad breakup. Couple years back.”
She softened slightly. “...Oh. How bad?”
He looked at her matter-of-factly. “Gold digging, private eye hiring, fake pregnancy bad. Stalked me afterward, too.”
She sat back, blinking rapidly. “...That’s bad.”
“Technically I don’t not date. I’m just very picky after...what happened.” He took another few bites, his expression only slightly troubled.
Well, that’s that then. If he’s super picky and he can date anyone he wants, I’m definitely out of the running.
“So...you’re really not interested in James?”
She almost dropped her fork. No, I’m interested in you. I just can’t say a damn thing about it. “Why are you asking me that again now?”
“I’m trying to figure out what your type is.”
“Of men?”
He gazed at her steadily. “Yes.”
She blushed furiously and stared at her plate, unable to answer him until he let her off the hook by changing the subject.
The storm lasted until that night . They ate warmed over leftovers by candlelight, using the last of the propane, and stayed in the kitchen until the temperature dropped too much. Then they dragged their makeshift bed to the living room and laid it down in front of the wood stove, which Henry filled and lit.
When the white-out at the windows faded, and the clouds started to roll away, Anna went to the back door and opened it, stepping out quickly into the snow to keep the heat inside the house. She sank in to her hips, soaking her leggings, and stared around at the rolling white snow mounds under the moon. It was as beautiful as it was freezing and treacherous: white moonlight painting everything, stars glittering, a few rags of cloud retreating west. Tomorrow they would be running low on supplies, but at least they would have a chance in hell of going for help if no one came for them by afternoon.
She turned and pushed her way back inside--and the temperature change hit her like an oven. Her legs stung, and she realized that she was chilled through when her numb legs almost buckled under her.
Henry hurried over with a blanket and wrapped it around them both. “Come here. You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I had to see for myself--”
“I get that, but now you’re half frozen.” He helped her into the living room, sat her down on the mattress in front of the fire, and kept an arm wrapped around her as she gradually warmed. She realized that he was holding her against his side, and that his heat was soaking into her as much as the stove’s was. His arm around her did more for her than any of it.
Eventually her tights dried, and she stopped shivering. But she stayed curled against him for a good while longer, eyes at half mast, heart beating a little quickly, and neither one of them seemed willing to break the intimate silence.
There was no propane to heat water for cocoa, so he tried putting the kettle on the wood stove, which actually worked. As they sipped their drinks, she said quietly, “Storm’s all the way gone. It’s even colder out, but you might actually be able to head for the next house over. It’s not going to be easy, though. It’s hip deep on me.”
“Well, we’ll have to see. Maybe we’ll get lucky. I mean--maybe someone will come for us before that.”
She kept blushing at the slightest things. Maybe it was nerves.
Chapter 6: Warmth
They decided not to use the wood stove while they could hide under the comforters after realizing that their few hours up that evening had eaten through half their store of wood. But that meant that the cold deepened throughout the night and they only had each other for warmth.
First they lay together, back to back, and tried to sleep that way. She felt him breathing slowly against her, and rolled onto her back, very shyly touching his muscled side. He was down to his thermals, their outer clothes piled on top of the comforters. She tried not to caress him, tried to content herself with that small contact, but the pain gnawed at her heart as she restrained herself. Eventually she rolled over and pressed her cheek against his back, her eyes wet and her body trembling a little. I wish...oh God, I just wish….
He rolled over, mumbling somethi
ng in his sleep, and threw an arm over her, pulling her against his chest. She lay there blinking, feeling his heart beat slow and easy against her cheek this time, and then slowly relaxed and nestled against him. Her eyes closed, and she drifted softly off to sleep, the gnawing ache inside of her finally gone again.
She woke sometime in the dark, the moon still high and flooding light in through the windows. She was still in his arms, the air on her face outside the covers freezing cold but her body burned like a furnace everywhere she touched him. Her heart was pounding, and his still beat slow and steady against her. But his hand was sliding over one of her breasts through the thin fabric of her slip, and he was murmuring sleepily in her ear. “Mm, about damn time…”
She froze, not sure what to do. But his hand cupped her breast and his thumb slid over her nipple through the fabric, and a jolt of pleasure went through her whole body. She moaned, arching against him, and found her mouth near his. “Kiss me, baby,” he murmured with his eyes closed. Anna blinked up at him, and her whole body trembled. Then finally, she leaned up, and pressed her lips against his with desperate fervor.
He made a contented noise, his hands starting to slide over her. She couldn’t hear anything after that; her heart was in her ears and her whole body on fire. She felt his arousal pressing against her belly from inside his thermals, and she shivered.
“Henry….” she whispered, and pressed against him, kissing him again.
His eyes opened and froze, blinking rapidly. She broke the kiss and stared at him, realizing belatedly that he had been asleep. He had been asleep—dreaming--and she had no idea who he had been dreaming about, she had just assumed….
Oh God.
She blushed hugely and started to pull away from him, but he hung onto her, still trying to catch up with what had happened.
“Wow, that was really nice, but uh...what did I miss?”
“I...you...you were….” Her cheeks felt like they might burst into flame, and she felt tears threatening. It was so mortifying. How had she let herself slip like this? How had she let herself make such a stupid mistake? “I thought you wanted….”
He stared at her...and then slowly relaxed, a faint, soft smile coming to his lips. “Who says I didn’t?”
Her mortification dissolved, and she blinked up at him. He gently feathered a kiss onto her nose, and she felt her tension start to dissolve. “I couldn’t tell...but...I was so happy to hear that. I just had no idea how to say anything.”
“...Oh,” he replied softly, sounding a little breathless with astonishment. Then the soft smile deepened, and a gleam came to his eyes. “Then don’t say anything.”
His kiss stole her breath. She whimpered against his mouth and then relaxed into his arms, trembling a little as his lips explored hers. His mouth traced along the line of her jaw, up to her earlobe, kissing and nibbling lightly before trailing down the muscle of her neck to suckle warmth to the surface at her pulse point. She moaned softly, clutching the back of his head, and whispered encouragement as he slid the strap of her slip off her shoulder and reached inside the fabric to cup and knead her breast.
It had been a long time since a man had touched her like this, and her body seemed to ache with long-starved desires. She slid her hands up his belly under his shirt, exploring his body--and sometimes simply clutching him as his slowly gliding mouth found a spot that sent tingles through her. Here, at her neck; here, at her nape; here, his tongue circling her nipple hard before he drew it into his mouth for long, lazy suckling.
She was sore and trembling before he switched breasts, his head half hidden under the coverlet. She sobbed gently with desire and shimmied the slip downward, puddling the fabric down over her hips. He grasped it and pulled it down further, and she arched her back to help, until she lay naked under him, her whole body awakened now and her belly fluttering.
His hands slid over her, exploring every inch of her skin, leading the way for his mouth’s attentions. He was hidden under the comforters, and she couldn’t quite see where he would move to next. Here, her breast; here, her belly; then the curve of her hip where her thigh met it; then, pulling her thighs open, her inner thigh. And then his warm breath blew over the sparse curls of her sex, and she gasped and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, almost afraid to move.
He parted her with his fingers, gently brushing their smooth tips along her folds...and then followed with his lazily-exploring tongue. A harsh cry escaped her and her hips lifted reflexively, the air turning to fire in her lungs. He kept at her, so slow, almost lazy, his tongue lapping and swirling against her most sensitive flesh while her cries rose until they echoed off the ceiling. And still he teased at her, refusing to speed his movements and let her climax.
She sobbed his name, drugged with pleasure, her hands in his hair and sliding over his shoulders, her body slowly, slowly growing taut with tension waiting for release. Her head lolled back on the pillow, and she heard her cries go harsh and incoherent. And still he wouldn’t let her go over the edge, pulling back as she went up on her heels.
She collapsed back to the mattress, writhing and twisted, unfulfilled and yet wild with pleasure and happiness. He wanted her. He was covering her with kisses, and up he came now from under the comforter, sitting up to tear off his shirt and kick the thermal pants off, eyes wild with lust.
He crouched over her, and she whimpered and parted her legs for him, her voice rising in an almost-plea as she felt his erection slide against her thighs and then push insistently against her sex. Her hips lifted...and he slid into her, a long groan of relief and hunger turning into a harsh shout as he sank in completely.
He tried to go slowly, but his body wouldn’t cooperate any more. He hunched and shoved against her, his hips rolling faster and faster, using a little too much of his strength, pressing her into the mattress and making her sob for air. His breath was all shuddering gasps, as if he was struggling to keep quiet and in control.
She wanted it to last forever. But her body was already tightening around him, and she raked her fingers over his back and raised her hips to meet him again and again as he groaned and panted and pounded into her.
She heard her own voice rising in desperate cries, counterpointed by his muffled groans--and then her nerve endings caught up and her climax roared over her in a series of waves. She wailed, nails digging into the skin of his back as he slammed his hips against her. And then he arched his back and shuddered against her, body pushed against hers and his member spasming inside of her. He cried out her name...and then caught himself on his arms before he could collapse over her.
She came back to herself to see him staring down at her in the moonlight, his eyes bright and his hair askew. She reached up to smooth his hair and caressed his face softly. He smiled lazily and leaned down to kiss her. “That was almost worth getting stranded up here....”
“Yes,” she murmured against his lips. “Yes it was.”
Chapter 7: Rescued
They made love twice more before dawn flooded the windows and Anna’s growling stomach demanded she seek out the last scraps of food for them. Two slices of toast apiece with a few bits of roast beef on them. They sat next to each other as they ate, distracting each other from the shrinking pile of wood and the lack of snowplow noises with little gestures of tenderness. They might be in trouble, but they had found an antidote for their survival terror in the sweetness of afterglow.
After breakfast, they went out briefly to survey the mess the storm left in the harsh light of day. The quarter mile to the road was a smooth mass of snow, and the road itself was no better. It would be a half mile of breaking trail in the icy cold, and Anna fretted while Henry steeled himself for it. Hopefully their neighbors would actually be home, instead of somewhere safer and saner.
Henry waited until the sun was high, and the temperature rose enough above freezing that the tops of the snowdrifts went soft and glistening. Then he went to bundle himself up for the walk, his eyes determined.
As he
went, Anna thought she heard something like a motor rumbling along out there. She went out again, breath misting in the air...and yes, that was definitely a diesel motor, coming closer. She stared...and saw a snowcat blunder up the hill, its treads plowing across the snowdrifts easily.
Amazed, she turned to go back inside and call for Henry. But then she heard a voice call out “Anna!”
James?
She turned back and poked her head out again--and there he was, driving the snow-cat as close to the door as he dared. His face was red from exertion, and his eyes only started to lose the faint wildness of worry in them when he saw her.
“There you are! I hate being right sometimes.” He sighed relief and cut the engine. “Go get him, wherever he’s got to. There's another storm due within the hour. Let’s get the Hell out of here!”
She found Henry and they hurried back to the door, stopping only to grab a few belongings. The rest could damned well wait. “Jesus, am I glad to see you,” Henry admitted as James frowned thoughtfully down at him.
James’s scowl deepened, and his tone filled with exasperation. “What the hell did I tell you, Boss?”
“I know, I know. I really owe you for this one.” He reached to help Anna up--and blinked, because James had already scooped her up one-armed into the cockpit. He stared for a moment, then sighed and climbed in with them.
“By the way...where did you get this snowcat?”
“Parks department,” James said in a clipped tone.
“Do...they...know you borrowed it?”
James started up the engine. “Nope.” His expression was grimly resigned.
“I...see. Guess I’d better be ready to smooth things over over there on your behalf, then.”
“That would be appreciated.” James sighed quietly, then looked over at Anna. “You all right?”
Out of the Cold Page 3